Quotes to Carrie with You

"They say, (and I don't know who 'they' are,) that creation is the point of 'it all' - and who can argue, really?"

"The trappings of an emotional play? A costume party."

"I love love, and I'm good at it."

"Logic doesn't win, when it comes to pride, it's just the last or loudest word that counts."

"The speed without the car accident would be perfect for you."

"We're each responsible for our own words."

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And some other ones....:

"Everything has a reason. And if so, then there will always be something to get, even if it's not a good thing."

"Realize what you're losing, and lose yourself in it."

"Get it. If you don't, take some time off and try again. Don't worry-- there's plenty of time, and plenty to get."

"We are each responsible for our own worlds."

A Little Bit More Than Nothing

Still thinking, remembering,
knowing, and ever still growing,
steps taken become memories, always showing
that we're all a little bit more than nothing.

And the good will always be good,
and the bad is just the same good,
without the tainted ruffles and frills
that we allowed ourselves to throw on
like gaudy accessories in a fashion store gone wrong.

I could keep flipping through the diary in my mind
though we'll never be on the same page.
Because steps taken become memories, always showing
that we're all a little bit more than nothing.

And let it be this way until our hearts grow old
walking until we see more than what's in front of us
still thinking, remembering
knowing that we've all given and taken too much.

If "that's the way it is"
If "this is how it should be"
Remember these words, and cry out
that we're all a little bit more than nothing.

What is Love?

"Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." -Corinthians 1

Pitfalls

Pain is relatively simple to understand, but is difficult to actually process. It can occur in several ways, and most of them....well, most of them just plain-old suck.

In my opinion, physical pain is pretty easy to deal with-- at least, common physical pain. Physical wounds tend to heal, and therefore are just "bad times" that people recall later in life. It's uncomfortable, yes, but we have ways to deal with that-- be it medicine, surgery, exercise or time. I hardly think people dwell on broken bones or cuts n' bruises, and in American culture, such would be considered weak.

It's the mental pain that really gets to me.

Mental (or emotional) pain is different, since its healing process is not up to the individual (when's the last time you heard someone say, "Ok, time to not be depressed anymore"?) Circumstances throughout someone's life become triggers for emotional pain later on-- and sometimes, the pain never goes away. It makes reminiscing those "good times" difficult. They become hard to bear. I am lucky to have encountered very little of those kinds of situations, and I could never say to someone, "Oh, I know you feel." And because I haven't experienced much, I am far more sensitive to situations than other people I know. I wouldn't call it emo, not because I don't want to live up to it, but that's not accurate enough. I'd just call it being overly sensitive-- sensy, for short, which sounds far too much like sissy and pansy than I'd like.

And it's sensy people like me that struggle to get out of pitfalls that life has plotted all around us.

I'd imagine that many people encounter pitfalls like I am right now. But it's hard to see anything in positive light when just about everything I own goes down that pitfall.

Now would be an ideal time to become a monk with no need of "worldly possessions."

And while I'm in my deep hole of self-pity and regret, I still know that....well, that not everything sucks. I still live. That's a plus. And I'm still loved.

Audience:

At some point, you come to realize that that car, and all that money, doesn't amount to anything at all. At some point in all of everyone's very, very short lives, we all hopefully come to the same conclusion that we couldn't possibly need anything more than the love that we get. And that love comes from people that we may have forgotten about, or may never want to see-- because what's the only thing that makes you feel like you have a purpose? That would be the person standing right there appreciating you for who you are, all this time, loving you despite the circumstances, no matter how much feces hits that proverbial fan.

So in summary of my continual and monotonous pity-searching: Stop. Stop it. Stop thinking that it's the end of the world. And look at love. Stare at it right in the face. Love it back.

You and Me

Here is another poem:

"You

You don't know you. I don't know you.

You try to understand yourself. You try to reason with yourself.

You want to exist. You don't want to exist. The insecurities of your mind bring up persistent questions that can't be answered.

You build a foundation of beliefs and dreams out of the fear that the lack thereof would make you nothing in this world.

Yet you know that you are nothing. I know you are also nothing.

Why?

You fear monotony, and cling onto individuality like a cry for help from your soul, hoping that in doing so you can justify your purpose.

You are important to me, as I am important to you. Yet you leave me doubting your capabilities of empathy.

Are you sensitive? You want to be-- but words as deadly as bullets deny the possibility.

You can try, but then you are not true. I will know you are not true.

Then, should you be true?

You do try, but I know trying is not good enough. I know what you want to be. But can you be?

Therefore:

Live up to the image you have projected, or I will break you apart.

~~~~

I don't agree.

I do want to exist. Without me, you would hurt.

I am me. You can't deny my being.

You can't convince me of my uselessness.

I cling onto individuality, hoping to show those I meet that I am not who you think I am.

I am sensitive. You know this. I am also human. You hate this.

I try. You know this too, but no matter what you say, I won't give up.

I feel suffocated by the helplessness as I see others hurt because of me. I am also hurt. I wish you could help me.

The stained cross lays broken, gazing at me, waiting for an apology.

The lady in black blames me in her world of deluded egotism.

To that lingering smell of gunmetal, I feel like a self-imposed lie.

You…

Just leave me alone."

A Grain of Sand

How many people have existed in the our world's history? I'm not speaking numbers-- try to comprehend the sheer amount of lives that have, at one point, existed.

Now, I'd like to ask: who are you in relation to everyone who has ever lived?

Are you all that different? Is what you do important? How can we, as humans who come and go like leaves on a tree, ever justify that what we do makes any difference to "the greater scheme of things?" Our planet, which we perceive as a large object that most want to travel around to get "life experience," can't even be compared to a small fraction of the universe. And so, in the incomprehensible vastness of space, how does a single person compare? How can a single person compare?

What are we? And Why?

These, of course, are questions that most individuals ask themselves at some points in their lives. I'm not giving anyone an answer-- this is purely trivial blunder that no one in history could ever start to wrap their minds around. Regardless of what one believes, the concept of "making a difference" to a large extent is laughable. Ambitions and dreams are wonderful things, but can't ever be achieved by a flawed, temporary unit such as me. I can reason that I can make a difference on small measures-- be it recycling plastic, or saving someone's life, which may be enough to satisfy my happiness-- but nothing a person can do is permanent, and even if someone manages to be remembered in history, that also will eventually fade away in one manner or another. One day, nothing on this world will exist.

How do we take that? Most don't think about it, because that's out of our control, and therefore is something most people avoid talking about because it eliminates everything we know to exist. It is a bleak and empty topic to discuss, since there's not much to discuss...and so people go about worrying about what they do have control over, like how to make more money so they can have more things, or what they should do over a person that's hurt them in their lives. And these small things are blown up to extreme proportions and exaggerated greatly, because to most people, we are our most important things.

I often wonder why we should bother with living at all. Wouldn't it make more sense to avoid the drama and fantasies we create? We die anyways, so what's the point?

But I guess that's not the point. As long as we find what makes us happy, it doesn't really matter if we're grains of sand in this vast desert. I just wish reality and logic wasn't this black and white. Someone tell me it's not, and that I'm wrong.

What significance will this post have on the universe? None.

Only concepts and ideas-- intangible things--"live" on, by people who suddenly stumble across them and decide to act in some way. And what happens to these ideas once we're not here anymore? Do they stop existing too?

It's thoughts like these that make me question the importance of our existence.

Falling Slowly

By Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova:

I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that.

Words fall through me, always fool me, and I can't react.

And games that never amount to more than they're meant,

will play themselves out.

Take this sinking boat, and point it home, we've still got time.

Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice, you've made it now.

Falling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can't go back.

Moods that take me, and erase me, and I'm painted black.

Well you suffered enough, and warred with yourself,

it's time that you've won.

Take this sinking boat, and point it home, we've still got time.

Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice, you've made it now.

Falling slowly, sing your melody, I'll sing it loud.

No More

Here is a poem.

"I said this was crazy. You agreed.

The tears glisten of memories that could have been, as silent wishes are made of imaginary sunsets and cozy fires. Promises turned upside down as the minutes pass, where five was six and six was never as hearts turned cold to the distant warmth. Biting words stung, of which not even interwoven chords could fix. But underneath this bitter mistake, I still hear a melody.

Through test of time and patience we grew weary, as the spark that was once strong lay buried in the ashes of the past. Emotions rose where logic failed, leaving behind angry distress calls plastered onto the walls of our minds like graffiti. Time grew shorter as we grew busier, hoping that miracles do occur, but disappointment became the more the reliable friend.

No more.

An idea had grounded deep inside my heart proving that it can make wrongs right. With both eyes closed, I listen to you as I get comfortable in your shoes, realizing our necessities for a good future. As I struggle to remove this bullet I gaze upon the barrel of the gun, knowing its slinger will fire again. And this time there will be no pain, for these bullets were never meant to hurt.

Though they would kill if not for love."

Risks

Recently, I've been involving myself in conversations pertaining to intelligence and its definition. It's interesting to note that intelligence is not apparent in as many people as it should be, in my opinion, and that based upon my definition, intelligence is not based primarily upon academic diligence, or science, but rather the extent of which an individual thinks.

By that, I mean most people are aware of their actions, unless they are under the influence of an outside factor (more on that later). That being said, the actions of an individual are the most accurate pieces of evidence that depict what kind of person he or she is; for example, a person who drinks excessively and smokes excessively would probably be perceived as troubled, cognitively lacking, and most likely careless. Despite that being an assumption, human actions don't travel far from human personality or outlook.

The reason why I don't consider academic knowledge an integral part of intelligence is because, simply, there is no direct correlation between how well someone achieves in school, and his or her cognitive ability. From my experience, the amount of input and reason, as well as the desire to learn, discuss or debate-- in social situations, mainly-- is a valid measure to gauge someone's intellect and while I say that only because this sort of function stimulates me mentally, I believe the variety of topics available for discussion, such as philosophy, economics, psychology, spirituality and sociology, form a collection of materials extensive enough to contain something interesting for everyone. And while what I just listed are studies that may require an academic background or understanding, none of those studies matter if people show no interest in them the moment they step outside the lecture. It's the demonstration of how much one knows and thinks in social situations that makes the difference.

This being said, one of the topics of conversation that frequently angers me is an intellectual who ignores or doesn't mind intentionally incurring stupidity by acts such as drinking or taking drugs. I can understand those who don't care for how they appear intellectually, since, by performing said actions, they have nothing to lose. However, those who obviously display their knowledge, who like to think-- wouldn't the aforementioned actions contradict that very aspect? Essentially, why claim you're smarter than others, when you go about doing the exact same things as everyone else? To be more clear, I'm not saying alcohol, by itself, is stupid, but the way people use it, especially in social events and schools, is. I don't see anything beneficial or mentally stimulating in throwing up, not remembering what happened, and then having a headache the next day. It's mindless, and is the obvious contradiction of what intellectuals would claim they are.

That's what I still think. But to an extent.

Upon discussing it in greater detail, I have one, and only one, reason as to why someone who would claim to be smart would, or should ever find a desire to. And that is to understand their own selves. I think that knowing limits, understanding how one changes, and what effects it has on said person, is, for a lack of better word, safe. I say that because no matter how much I claim people who are intelligent should not do it...people are still people. And humans make mistakes, and incur stupidity-- of which the result is either regret, or a desire for more. And in the event of a social situation, under the pressure of peers, or whatever it may be, the best defense is going prepared and aware of what one can handle.

It's taking risks.